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Nature Journal: Cherokee legend of the ogress and the chickadee

George Ellison, Nature Journal
Published 10:04 p.m. ET Oct. 4, 2017

The chickadee, seen here in winter, inspired Cherokee mythology.(Photo: Elizabeth Ellison/Courtesy of the artist)

Editor's note: This is the second of a two-part article about the relationship between tufted titmice and Carolina chickadees. Part 1 focused on their role in a foraging strategy called “flocking,” while this part will consider their place in Cherokee mythology.

The Cherokees were our first ornithologists here in the southern mountains. They had an uncanny ability to incorporate their careful observations of bird life into their legends in a way that quite often captured the “essence” of each species.

Two of the more common birds they observed yearround — just as we do today — were the chickadees (or "tsikilili," a name that imitates the bird's call) and the tufted titmice (or "utsugi," which means "topknot," in reference to its crested head).

Information collected by anthropologist James Mooney in the late 1890s was published in 1900 in his monumental "Myths of the Cherokee" by the Bureau of American Ethnology.

Titmice and chickadees play major roles throughout the portions of Mooney’s collection concerning animal life. One of the most significant of these involves an epic battle between the Indians and the forces of evil (i.e., a monstrous ogress) in which the titmouse and the chickadee are participants.

After hearing the story, it’s likely you’ll see these birds in a different light the next time they show up in your yard — which won’t be long. If you see one, you’ll be sure to see the other.

Having concluded that the chickadee was an honest messenger who could reliably foretell the coming of an unknown stranger or enemy, the Indians learned to trust the smaller, more docile, less intrusive and soft-spoken chickadee. The noisy, somewhat larger and arrogant titmouse they considered to be a false messenger. It was "the bird that lies."

These characteristics are embodied in their story about a terrible ogress named "Utlunta" or "Spear-finger." She could assume any shape or appearance but generally appeared as an old woman.

In reality, however, she was a witch with skin as hard as a rock that no weapon could penetrate. And on her right hand she had a long forefinger of bone, like an awl or spearhead, with which she extracted the liver of anyone she could get near enough to and eat it.

Finally, after many years of trying to do so, the Indians trapped Spear-finger in a deep pitfall. But shoot as true and as often as they could, their arrows struck the rock-hard skin of the witch and fell to the bottom of the pit.

The ogress taunted them and was about to escape from the pit when along came a titmouse who without being asked advised them with great certainty that the only vulnerable area in her armor was over her heart. But once again their arrows glanced off and fell to the bottom of the pit. Infuriated, the Indians caught the titmouse and cut its tongue off so that ever since its tongue has been short and everybody knows it is a liar.

Next thing a chickadee appeared but didn’t have anything to say. With time running out before the howling and screaming witch would escape, as a last resort the Indians asked the little bird if she knew what they might do.

George Ellison(Photo: Courtesy photo)

“Oh no, goodness me, I wouldn’t know anything like that,” she replied. “But now … I do seem to recall that long ago when I was visiting my grandfather, he said that to kill a witch you must aim an arrow through the hand holding up the terrible spearfinger, where her evil heart is located." And then she flew away.

An arrow directed at the clawed hand pierced the vital spot and she fell dead in the bottom of the pit. Ever since, according to the Cherokee view of things, the chickadee has been known as a “truth teller."

This was a story recited when Cherokee boys and girls were present so that they might learn to behave like the modest chickadee rather than the arrogant titmouse.

As of yet, however, I've not been able to check out a titmouse to see if it's tongue is indeed shorter than might be anticipated, but I wouldn't bet against it.

George Ellison is a naturalist and writer. His wife, Elizabeth Ellison, is a painter and papermaker who owns a gallery in Bryson City. Contact them at info@georgeellison.com or info@elizabethellisongallery.com or write to P.O. Box 1262, Bryson City, NC 28713.